Sowmya Aaryan Menon \ Monsoon 2015
* Brown Love When he is asleep the old house gets so cold that I have to use the heater to warm the floors. And when the wood is thawed enough to open without creaking I look inside his cupboard and arrange his shirts. He has a lot of browns. They are not the fresh mushroom brown not even the sun-tanned skin brown but the brown that reminds me of dried flowers. So I stack them color-wise yellows and blues at the top, browns at the bottom, crumpled. Yellow, he says, reminds him of his childhood. Blue reminds him of his mother. In the morning when he looks for his shirt He tells me with a frown on his face, I love brown. They remind me of you. * Winter On a heavy winter morning of brown skins and grey sky, our voices thickened with love, we leant our naked backs on cold rocks and whispered childish secrets to each other. In you, the hard tree, in me the gentle soil. A Straight back and a slow curve. Our desire, a drifting wind. It is like flying you said, the cold makes us weightless, the sea drowns our boundaries; and there, under the transparent sun we let go of our childhood. * Man-Woman She who smells of warm rain and blue flowers that spring unnoticed in corners and behind curtains He who has a dense coffee moustache Long thick fingers and drinks strong whisky She of gigantic hips and small breasts clutching a book that smells of armpits and forgotten roses He who speaks in seven languages and dreams of distant places and petite women make love under the evening sun on a boat swaying on still waters. * |
After completing MBA from Bangalore University, Sowmya Aaryan Menon started working as a copyeditor for International magazines and newspapers and in publishing companies, editing fiction and non-fiction. She is also a trained copywriter and has freelanced for the creative department in Scion Advertising agency and JWT Bangalore. She is currently pursuing MA in English Literature from Annamalai University. The three poems in the current issue are her first publication.
|